Stolen by the Rebel King-Chapter 447: Breakdown I

Zephyr shook his head frantically. "No, no, I’m fine. Really. I just need more rest. Seeing him again... brings back bad memories."

Daphne nodded in agreement. Jean Nott’s appearance was highly unexpected and very unwelcome, but somehow, she couldn’t remember the exact conversation that had passed between them. She could remember Jean Nott gesturing towards her and his wicked smile. Yet, when his mouth moved, it was all silence to her no matter how hard she tried to read his lips.

She pressed her thumbs against her temples and rubbed. Simply thinking about him was giving her a headache.

"Daphne?" Zephyr asked worriedly. "Do you need to rest? Maybe you should lie back down―"

"I’ve laid down so often I feel my skin becoming one with the bed," Daphne replied frankly. "No one will let me do anything more strenuous than fluffing my own pillow, and even then Atticus makes sure I have servants to do it for me. I’m more worried about you. Have you not been eating well? Did the castle run out of food?"

In Daphne’s mind, there was no conceivable way Zephyr would willingly starve himself. Xahan must be undergoing a famine for Zephyr to become skinny enough that he looked like he could be blown back by a strong gust of wind.

"No, the castle has food," Zephyr reassured her hastily, "I just... didn’t have much appetite. It’s alright! I’ll eat... soon... I’m not too hungry now." His eyes shifted to the floor, a morose look on his face.

Then, his stomach interrupted them with a mighty growl. Daphne giggled behind her hand.

"I’ll call the servants to bring us some food," Daphne said decidedly, ringing the tiny bell to call for a servant.

One appeared almost immediately out of the woodwork, as though he was on standby the whole time. His eyes darted to Zephyr and he flinched minusculely. Zephyr bit his lip, looking down at the floor at the pity he found in this unnamed servant’s eyes.

Tales of what Atticus had done had spread like wildfire. The only one oblivious to them was his wife, because no one dared to risk their necks to tell her, for fear of worsening her precarious condition.

"Queen Daphne, how may I serve you?" the servant asked, bowing low.

"Just get the kitchens to bring us some food. It’s around the time for tea," Daphne said. "In fact, all of you can go. I would like to speak to Zephyr alone."

The servants were reluctant, but eventually, all of them left the infirmary.

"Daphne, it’s okay, you don’t have to get me food," Zephyr protested weakly. His entire stomach felt like it was close to tearing itself apart with nausea. He didn’t want to eat a crumb; he couldn’t risk puking on Daphne. But if he didn’t eat anything, Daphne was going to become suspicious. "I can eat by myself."

"Nonsense, you can eat with me. I want to spend more time with you, Zephyr. I hadn’t seen you the whole time I was in the infirmary. I thought you might be too busy to visit."

Daphne’s words were gentle, but there was the faintest hint of hurt underlying them.

’Of course, why wouldn’t Daphne feel hurt?’ Zephyr thought miserably to himself.

He was the worst scum in the world, and no matter what decision he made, he would still fuck things up. He had spent nearly every waking moment with Nereus and Daphne after Jean Nott’s first appearance, and Daphne’s mind wasn’t so addled that she couldn’t remember that much.

There was no way to refuse Daphne’s offer. Zephyr took the chair Daphne offered him, nearly falling forward as he sat down. Old habits were hard to break; without the constant weight of his wings, it was harder for him to do tasks he had taken for granted. He even had to relearn how to work without falling.

Daphne’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. Zephyr had never been so clumsy, even when he first gained a human form. While his manners were less than impeccable, Zephyr always moved with an innate grace that came from his ancestors soaring the skies.

Jean Nott must have done something to him. Daphne would kill that man if it were the last thing she did, once she wormed the story out of Zephyr. And Zephyr would tell her because he would never deny her anything.

"Careful, Zephyr. You can’t fall now," Daphne said jokingly. "In my state, I won’t be able to stop you from falling."

Zephyr froze as he registered Daphne’s words. His lower lip wibbled with guilt. Yes. This was all his fault. He fell, and now Daphne no longer had a baby and he was such a loser he couldn’t even sit on a chair without worrying her, and now she can’t even save him from himself because he caused her to lose her baby―

To Daphne’s utter shock, Zephyr began to let out plaintive cries, as though he was once again a baby griffin, tears falling hot and heavy from his eyes. His face was red, and he was weeping so hard that he couldn’t catch his breath.

"Zephyr! What’s wrong?" Daphne exclaimed. She tried to reach for him, but Zephyr batted her hands away subconsciously, wailing to himself. He rocked back and forth on his chair so hard that Daphne was afraid he would fall off.

"Zephyr, look at me!" Daphne demanded now, in a stronger voice. She willed herself to sit up and grab his body. To her horror, Zephyr felt even skinnier in her arms. The muscles he was so proud of were gone, and he was as bony as a malnourished chicken. Oh god. Zephyr was sick. He was dying. Why didn’t anyone tell her?

"Tell me what’s wrong. I’ll fix it for you," Daphne pleaded, desperation in her voice.

"... I ruined everything... I deserve to die..." Zephyr muttered deliriously to himself, huddling in her arms. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry... Your baby... My fault... my fault... Your baby... Gone... All of it!"